Le Mirage
by LotusRoseBlossom
Summary: It's not always rainbows and butterflies, it's compromise that moves us along . . . - 'She will be loved' : Maroon 5
1. Chapter 1

~*Le Mirage*~

_The unwinding of one of the most promising love stories ever told. Where did it go wrong? We have provided the report below to find out exactly were the problem arose and to see if there was anything that could have been done to prevented such a tragic ending for this love that was yet so young. . . _

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**Archive #1**\- Mornings

An example of a normal morning

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**_"That's one of the first things that comes out of young people's mouths when they're in love. FOREVER. And that's cool, it's all good-until you get old enough to realize what forever is. . ."  
― Ice-T_**

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**New York, East Village **

_[Saturday December 2, 2010]_

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People in New York never realize just how many people inhabit this little state, or, for that matter, stop to think about all the lives going on around them. People walk back and forth a building and don't contemplate who exactly lives in there, what their thinking, what their feeling, what their lives are like. If they did, maybe they'd imagine a newly wed couple that just moved into their own place. Or, perhaps, a band of teenagers, looking to get away from their parents, or even, a single parent struggling to provide for their child. All these are possibilities, yes? None of them are too far-fetched or unbelievable. Lives go on around us and we never stop to think what others might be feeling for a moment. If we did, we'd find they led interesting lives.

In one room, on the third floor of this particular building, for example, is a room. A room with white walls and blue stripes. Inside this little apartment is a small, homely kitchen with a refrigerator stocked with a different assortment of foods. A dining room with a round table with two chairs. A bathroom with one shower and two toothbrushes, one green the other red. One bedroom, with one bed and a nightstand with a framed photo, a lamp for late night reading, a small radio with a digital clock and a pair of glasses. A T.V rests on another small table on the wall straight across from the head of the bed. The radio on the nightstand reads 7:14 for a second before it changes to 7:15 and goes off.

_/"Yes sirree, it is a __**fine** Saturday morning indeed! It is a great way to start the weekend off, ain't it? What with all the **early**, let me say too early holiday cheer-"/_

The radio announcer's voice was cut off abruptly as a pale hand snaked out and hit the 'snooze' button.

"Mmf. . ."

The bed room was quiet except for the soft breathing of the two occupants lying on a queen sized bed, spoon style. One of the two, a blond, barely stirred at the noise. The other, a small raven-haired man, blinked his eyes open. Alert brown eyes flitted around the room, milky skin puckering up with goose bumps. He shivered, burrowing deeper under the covers.

"Babe?"

The groggy voice that filled Kiku's ear made him smile softly, sleepily. He turned to look at Alfred's sleeping face. When he slept he looked young, well younger than he already was. He still had that same youth that had first made Kiku notice him back in high school, the type of vibrancy that demanded attention. It was more relaxed in sleep, but it still shimmered at the edges. His eyes were closed, but Kiku knew that bright blue gaze by memory, even if it was framed by a pair of glasses. It added to his charm, Kiku thought. His blond head of hair was ruffled, in and out of bed, and had a persistent cowlick that stuck straight up and when he was especially excited about something, it seemed to bob up and down. All in all, Alfred was very handsome, if not boyishly so, and Kiku asked himself everyday how he was so fortunate to have gotten him for himself. Or how he could love him back, someone so plain in comparison.

Alfred opened his eyes in time to see Kiku wrinkle his nose at the thought of his dull brown eyes and hair.

"What is it, babe?" he slurred, voice heavy with sleep. His eyes looked into his small face and frowned. "What? Do I have drool or somethin'?"

Kiku giggled. "No, I'm sorry, I was just admiring you, that's all." He shrugged as if that was normal.

Alfred chuckled, pulling him closer.

"Tell me next time, so I can pose for you," he whispered in his ear, smiling devilishly, all thought of sleep gone.

Kiku blushed a deep scarlet, and smacked his arm lightly.

"Alfred!"

He laughed at his reaction. "Jeez, first you say you want me-"

"Wha-? I never-!" Kiku protested embarrassed.

"Then," Alfred went on teasingly. "You blush at a little flirting? Hmm, I'm starting to think you _like_ teasing me," he said.

"Oh, honestly, Alfred-san, the things you say," Kiku said, trying not to smile. He turned to get out of the bed. On their bedside table sat a picture of them on their first official date. Kiku smiled at it. He'd been so nervous and had nearly cancelled if not for Elizabeta and Feliciano who urged him to go. Thankfully he'd gone along, that had been the most fun he'd had in a long time and that picture was evidence. They'd just gotten off a wild ride and Kiku was leaning on Alfred for support, laughing and Alfred was smiling proudly down at him.

"Aww, were you going? Your taking all your warmth with you, come back into bed. . ." whined Alfred as Kiku lifted his side of the duvet to get out. Alfred reached out a hand to stop him. "Come on we haven't even had morning se-"

Kiku shoved a pillow into his face, muffling his voice.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Aren't you hungry?" he asked wryly, still blushing at his words.

"Oh, breakfast!" Alfred shook the pillow off. "Yeah, I'm starved! I mean after last night . . ."

"I'm leaving," Kiku said firmly, slipping on his slippers and grabbing his robe from the chair by the door. "Get up." He called back as he went out into the hall.

"Aww, but its Saturday," he groaned flopping back on the pillows, sounding like a little kid. "Why do I have to get up so early?"

**oOOoOOo**

Kiku stood in front of the stove, in their little kitchen making steamed rice and tamagoyaki, rolled omelets, for himself and Alfred. He was humming as he cracked another egg when he heard Alfred coming down the stairs, grumbling about how early it was and how cold it was.

He smiled, biting his lip. "Good morning."

Alfred glared at him. "No, not a good morning. It's winter, right?"

"Yes," Kiku answered turning the stove off. It was done. He reached into a cupboard to get plates. "Why, may I ask, does it matter the season?"

"Why?" Alfred asked incredulously. "Why? Because it's cold and normal people stay in bed all day when it's cold, that's why."

He walked over to stand next to him as Kiku served the food up. Alfred leaned against the counter crossing his arms, watching hungrily. He reached out a hand to get a piece of the ham.

"No," Kiku said, smacking his hand chidingly "Don't eat off the plate."

Alfred pouted at his back, rubbing his hurt hand.

"Your so mean," Alfred huffed, following him into the dining room. Kiku set the plates down and took a seat. On the round table was a cup of tea for him and a mug of coffee for Alfred.

"It's called having manners, Alfred-san," he retorted as Alfred sat across from him, picking up the fork set out for him. "Something you find lacking." He smiled picking up his chopsticks.

"Hey! I have plenty manners, I'll have you know," he said, mouth full.

"Mmm, yes I can see your manners," Kiku rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless.

Alfred swallowed, smiling as well. "When did you get so sassy?"

"When I met you," Kiku replied cheekily. "It was the only way to counter your denseness."

"Ah!" Alfred mocked. "You wound me!"

"Eat, Alfred," Kiku rolled his eyes, "before it gets cold."

"I'll get you back, Honda, just watch," Alfred warned.

"I can't wait, Jones-san," Kiku said sweetly, popping a pice of omelet in his mouth and smiling.

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**Notes:**_ Not much to report. If this was the only Archive in stock, it would seem a normal happy couple, but after the analyzes of the rest. . . Further research will follow _


	2. Chapter 2

_====+====Time Skip====+====_

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_**"You can ignore the memories but you will always remember the feeling . . ." **_  
_**― Coco Nicole Estef **_

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**New York, East Village**

_[Present day]_

* * *

Alfred felt a chill go down his back. He tried to ignore it as best he could but he felt it again.

"Go away . . . sleeping. . ." he mumbling, bringing the covers over his head. He was finally dozing off, when he felt it again. He growled and flipped over, throwing a hand over his eyes to block out the sun streaming in through the window.

Damn Sun, why does it have to be so freaking bright and early?

"What, what? I'm up, I'm up!"

When he didn't get a reply he put his arm down and sat up. It was all blurry.

"Whoa," he said, before fumbling at the nightstand for his glasses. Slipping them on clumsily he looked around the room once again.

It was . . . empty.

He frowned in confusion for a second, before remembering.

"Oh, yeah," he laughed at himself, flopping back on the bed. Kiku was on a business trip for a few weeks. Forgot.

"That means more sleep for me," he sing-songed, preparing to go back to sleep when he heard voices coming from the kitchen. That wasn't right; no one else lived with them . . . that he was aware of, anyway.

_What if it's some type of soul eating demon, waiting to get you?_ the sadistic part of him whispered. He shivered, pulling the covers up to his chin. Not that he was scared or anything.

Pshh, what him? No! 'Course not!

"I-I should probably go check that out," he said nervously to himself. "Yup, I'm just gonna get up and walk. . ."

He reluctantly got out of bed and walked barefoot to the bedroom door and opened it slowly. It creaked and the voice paused briefly before going on, lower this time. He creeped stealthily out into the hall.

The very dark hall. . .

Alfred gulped, looking around at the shadows on the walls and the half-opened bathroom door. Who knows what could be hiding in there-?

"Yes, yes, I know that," a different voice interrupted his morbid thoughts. He jumped and plastered himself to the wall, like he'd seen people do in the movies. He blinked.

Wait a minute . . .

He frowned.

That voice. . .

"You don't bloody need to tell me that, you frog!" the voice was no longer quiet.

Alfred felt relieved as he turned the corner and walked through the dining room into the kitchen. It was just-

"Iggy!" he laughed, walking in. "What a relief I thought you were a monster or something!"

Arthur Kirkland had his back to him, standing in front of the sink with a cell phone up to his ear. He tensed up at his voice. He whipped around cell phone still up to his ear. His wide green eyes were guilty and . . . scared? His hand tightened on the phone.

"Ah, yes, err, sir. I understand. I'll call you later. Bye." He quickly hung up and put the phone in the pocket of his dark grey trousers. He ran a nervous hand through his messy blond hair. He had a loose forest green vest on over a crisp white dress shirt and a red tie tucked in. He stood awkwardly with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Alfred went on about something.

"What? No, ha, I'm no monster. . ." he cleared his throat. "Ah! And don't call me 'Iggy'. My name is Arthur. Call me Arthur or call me nothing."

"Alright then, Nothing, what are you doing in my kitchen," Alfred winked, crossing over to make himself a pot of coffee.

That nervous look returned. He moved out of his was and stood next to the refrigerator, arms crossed over his chest. He cleared his throat again.

"Ah, well, yes, I suppose you'd want to know why. Um, do you not remember anything about last y- ah, what I meant was, last night. Do you remember anything about last night, Alfred?" he rambled, stumbling on his words. He winced.

"Hmm, let's see," Alfred hummed in mock thought as he got a mug down from one of the cupboards. "I went to work, got McDonald's on the way home. Ate and watched some TV and . . . slept." He smiled over at Arthur, getting a spoon out of a yellow drawer full of eating utensils. He closed it with a bump of his hip. "That answer your question, Ig- Oh shit!"

Alfred put a hand up to his head and winced.

"What? What do you remember-?" Arthur's emerald eyes widened. He dropping his stand and took a step forward.

"Shoot, I forgot to call Kiku," he groaned, putting his mug down. He went in the direction of the door. "I'll leave him a message-"

"No!"

Alfred paused at the door, hand up to swing it open. He turned to look at Arthur, his fists clenched and face frantic. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"No?" he chuckled, confused. "Why not?"

"Ah, what I meant to say-" Arthur licked his lips looking cornered.

Alfred turned fully and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Arthur with suspicious narrowed eyes.

"Okay. . . something definitely isn't right here. Come to think of it, you never answered me. Why _are_ you in my house?"

Arthur's eyes shifted from his gaze, taking sudden interest to the floor. "I-I, um, well, I was in the neighborhood-"

Alfred scoffed. "You were 'in the neighborhood', so you randomly decide to pop into my house for breakfast? By the way, how did you even get in? You don't have the key-"

"Actually," Arthur said, holding up a brass key awkwardly. "I do. . ."

Alfred stared at the key, dumfounded. "How. . .?"

"You gave it to me, remember?" Arthur bit his lip and looked away. One thing he never could do right was lie. Alfred could always tell, ever since they were kids. Alfred eyed him.

_But why would he lie now? _he asked himself.

"Okay, fine," he said finally, shrugging. "Whatever. Your acting weird, that's normal for you, I guess." He picked up his mug of blessed coffee and headed to the living room.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean-?" Arthur lost that guarded look, outrage taking its place.

"But, I gotta call Keeks, so. . ." he said, picking up the extension from the wall in the dining room.

"Bu-"

"Ah!" Alfred said, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder. "Calling."

Arthur let out a muffled curse as he dialed Kiku's cell.

. . .

_**B_**BRRRRRRIIIIIIIiiiing**_!**_

. . .

**__**BRRRRRRIIIIIIIiiiing**_!_**

. . .

Alfred frowned, sipping his hot drink. Normally Kiku answered on the first ring, especially since he had installed caller ID for him not to long ago.

. . .

**__**BRRRRRRIIIIIIIiiiing**_!_**

. . .

**__**BR-**_!_**

*Click*

_'Hello?'_

Alfred smiled at the voice that filled his ear. He could clearly picture him, laying on the hotel bed on his tummy, legs up and crossed as he read some notes. He'd be holding back his soft hair with one small hand, his lips puckered in question.

"Hey'a, Babe, whacha doin'?" he asked impishly, setting down his mug of coffee on the table and leaning his back and head on the wall beside the telephone. From the corner of his eye he saw Arthur shake his head and turned, walking back into the kitchen.

_'Alfred-san, is that you? Why are you calling at such an hour?' _His voice suddenly sounded sleepy. His smile grew.

D'aww, he just loved that cute voice of his.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" He pictured his brown doe eyes heavy with sleep.

_'It's fine, I'm sorry, it's just, I have a lot to do-' _His voice suddenly cut off and Alfred heard voices in the background.

He frowned in confusion.

Was he still at the meeting?

"Hey, Babe, wh-?"

_'Ah, can I call you back later?' _

Alfred felt hurt for an odd reason, but he nodded anyway. Then he remembered Kiku couldn't see his nod. He cleared his throat.

"For sure," he forced a chuckle. What was wrong with him? "I'll ring you later, Kay? I-"

_'Goody-bye then, Alfred-san.'_

*Click*

**_Beeeeeeep_**

Alfred was left gaping as the dial tone blared at him mockingly.

" -love you. . ."

He set the phone back in the cradle and stared at it for a long time.

"Alfred?"

He turned, blank eyed to Arthur. He stood at the threshold of the door hesitantly.

"I-Is something the matter?"

He forced a smile. Right. Okay.

He could so do this.

"Yeah, why, Iggy?" he asked cheerfully picking up his cup.

"Well, um, it's almost time for work so. . ." he trailed off, looking closely at him. "Are you sure you-"

"Yea, I am," he said heading down the hall to their room.

"I'll be ready in a few minutes," he called out shutting the door behind him.

"O-Okay."

Alfred felt weird, gripping the coffee mug tightly in his hand and wearing his superman sweatpants and random shirt.

He shook his head.

"What was that?" he asked no one in particular.

The room offered no answer.

"I'm just being paranoid," he said, laughing to loudly. "Yup, that was just stress talking-"

"Um, Alfred?" A knock sounded from the door.

Right, work.

"Yeah?" he asked, moving to put the cup down on the nightstand and go to the closet to change. "What? I'll be out in a few, just let me cha-

"No, it's not that. Um, are you. . . talking to yourself?" came the hesitant question.

Alfred froze, pants half on. Crap, was he that loud?

"No, of course not, just. . . music," he said lamely.

"Oh."

Awkward silence.

"So-"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Footsteps retreated and Alfred was left in silence. After fixing himself half-heartedly he grabs his briefcase and heads out into the hallway.

He pauses beside a hung photo of Kiku in highschool. He'd been in art his first year and in the photo he'd been in the middle of a painting and was facing a blank canvas. His smock was smeared, as was his face and arms. The light came in through the window at just the right angle to envelop him in a halo of light. His eyes stared intently at the canvas, not noticing him with a camera, taking the picture. He loved it so much, this photo. It was simple and plain but . . . he didn't know why he always smiled at the memory of that day.

He grinned, all dark thoughts gone.

He pressed three fingers to his lips and put them on Kiku intent face.

"I love you," he whispered before heading off to work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Archive #4**\- Evenings

The holidays

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_**"You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not want to feel." **_

_**-Anonymous** _

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**New York, East Village **

_[Sunday, December 19, 2012]_

* * *

In New York, winter is a magical time. The days get dark sooner, making way for couples, new and old, to take romantic strolls through the streets decorated with soft twinkling lights. The cold does nothing to stop the love. If anything, it adds to the romance. Bundled up and skating hand in hand in the Rockefeller, putting up decorations for the big tree. From endless cafés, the smells of pumpkin spice and eggnog spill out and perfume the air with their irresistible scent. The urge to curl up in front of a warm fire is intoxicating. It's a cozy time indeed.

It was also the perfect season for some wintertime heartache. . .

Tucked away safe in his kitchen, Kiku hums softly along with the radio, stirring the hot chocolate slowly. He fits right into the winter scene, complete with a soft lavender turtle neck and thick black leggings with wool gray legwarmers. It was the middle of November and the cold was starting to creep in. The newly painted, bright sunny yellow walls lift his spirit immensely. He dips a wooden ladle to taste the warm drink.

_Mmm, perfect!_

He turns off the heat and sashays to the cupboard to get some mugs. He turns the radio up a little and laughs, twirling in the small kitchen. He absolutely loved winter. It was the perfect season for going out and taking long walks or making all kinds of sweets.

The cold didn't bother him at all.

Alfred on the other hand. . .

Kiku hears him before he sees him.

"Oh my _GOD!_" he hears from the direction of the living room. The kitchen door swings open a second later.

"Hello, Alfred," Kiku smiles indulgently.

"Uh…" he responds, padding over in the knit peach sweater that Kiku had knit for him and his comfiest sweatpants. He marches right up to Kiku and wraps him in his arms from behind. "Haah-"

And buries his cold nose into his neck.

Kiku squeals and shoves him playfully away. Alfred pouts, arms still around his waist, resting his head on his shoulder instead.

"Is it ready yet?" he asks before picking up his black mug to taste, not waiting for an answer.

"Don't do that, you'll burn your tongue," Kiku admonishes him, biting his lip to keep from smiling at how impatiently childish he was. "Come now, Alfred, it's not that cold. . ."

"Are you kidding?" he sputters incredulously, because the drink had indeed just boiled and he had taken a big gulp of the stuff. But mostly because he couldn't believe his insensitive boyfriend. "It's, like, a million degrees below outside!"

"Its 47 degrees," Kiku corrects, rolling his eyes at his melodramatic boyfriend. He checks on the Raspberry Macadamia White Chocolate cookies, before picking up his own white mug and heads to the swinging kitchen door.

"It's nothing," he adds dismissively over his shoulder, blowing on the drink to cool it.

The tree stands where they left it yesterday, in the corner of the room, near the window. They had brought out all their old decorations plus some new ones from their wedding. There were the rows of miniature versions of the paper lanterns from Yao and the yummy szaloncukor from Elizabeta, which Alfred had already eaten.

Kiku smiles and sets down his mug on the coffee table, on a coaster of course, and walks to the tree, touching each memento and reminiscing on how he came to have it.

The little Father Frost from Ivan and the creepy spiders from Ivan's sister, Katyusha. The wreath and candles from Lucas, the creamy seashells from Jett in Australia, and the Yule log from Francis. There was the La Befana from Feliciano and Lovino and the little advent calendar from Ludwig and Gilbert. They all added a little something for the tree.

He felt Alfred come behind him again, wrapping his arms around his middle.

"It's beautiful," he sighs, snuggling into his warm embrace. Everything feels absolutely, heartbreakingly _right_ at that moment. The apartment is warm and quietly peaceful. The cold from outside frosts the window, but here they are safe from the cold for a little while.

The holiday song reaches them at the same time.

"No," Kiku says right away, struggling against his arms as Alfred starts to hum along. "Alfred, no, we aren't teenagers anymore-"

He swirls him around and puts his hands on his waist.

"_Rockin' around the Christmas tree, let the Christmas spirit ring!_" Alfred sings in a smooth baritone, in contrast to the thirteen year old girl who had recorded the song first. He gives Kiku a spin in his arms and makes his puppy dog eyes.

"Alfred!" Kiku laughs, put sings the next part obediently.

"_Later we'll have some pumpkin pie and we'll do some caroling,_" he sings in a sweet rendition, having a sense of déjà vu when Alfred dips him, getting his breath taken away at the look of pure adoration in those blue, blue eyes.

They sing and dance and laugh through the whole song, and collapse on the couch in a fit of laughter when it's through.

"You can still hit those high notes, I see," Alfred teases tackling Kiku into a bear hug.

"You can still try to hit the high notes, I see," Kiku throws back, giggling breathlessly when Alfred attacks him with tickles.

"How dare you, I was amazing! Take it back, take it back, I say!"

Alfred puts Kiku on his back on the couch and nuzzles his sensitive tummy with raspberries.

"I surrender, I surrender!"

"Uh can' hee oo~" Alfred says, muffled by his turtleneck.

"You win, you win!" Kiku laughs, squirming.

Alfred brings his face up and grins at Kiku all pink cheeked and happy. He feels a zing in his heart.

"Not until you say I'm the best singer in the world and you would pay millions to see me in concert," he says, sitting up and putting Kiku on his lap. He tries to look threatening. "Say it, or else. . ."

"No," Kiku grins, arms going around his middle for protection.

"You leave me no choice, Honda."

He noogies him.

"Ach, Alfred!"

"Say it!"

"No!"

"Admit it, come on. 'Alfred is the best-'"

"Never!"

"'And I think he is a god-'"

"In your dreams!"

"'and the absolute best in bed-'"

"What?" Kiku turns his nose up and laughs. "Now that isn't even a real option."

Alfred snickers and is about to give a rather explicit rebuttal, when there's a knock at the door. A fairly loud and angry knock.

Kiku looks at the door in puzzlement before his eyes go wide.

"The oven!"

Alfred smells the burning then.

"Woah, that sure doesn't smell good."

Kiku jumps off his lap and runs to the door.

"Ohh, go turn it off Alfred!"

He gets up with a long drawn out sigh. He hums the song under his breathe and follows the scent of burnt cookies into the kitchen. He turns it off first then opens the little door to let the smell out. The oven exhales heavy black smoke, like a chain-smoker breathing out. He coughs and grabs the oven mitt shaped like an alien head and gets the cookie platter out and on the rack. The cookies are black and scorched beyond salvation.

He pouts. Man, he was really looking forward to Kiku's famous cookies.

Speaking of. . .

He walks out of the kitchen, waving a hand to clear the air. Whoo, it would take forever to clear the air of that sickly sweet smell.

He see's Kiku still by the door, hand on the doorknob. It looks like he just closed the door, too.

"Babe?" he asks, cautiously, hand coming down slowly.

Something wasn't right here. . .

He walks up to him and puts a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Kiku, you okay-?"

Kiku turns around fast and walks under his arm towards the kitchen, not looking him in the eye.

"Is the oven off?"

His voice sounds strained. He disappears into the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

Something was definitely not right here.

He walks into the kitchen after him.

"What's wrong?" he asks immediately.

"Nothing."

He answers too fast. Warning bells go off in his head. Kiku's scrubbing the pan in the sink, the remains of the cookies and their perfect evening in the trash.

"Who was it?" Alfred asks next, coming to stand beside him. Kiku moves away to get something.

"No one. The neighbors."

He leaves the pan and goes out the kitchen. Alfred is left bewildered.

The music that he had grown used to was cut off abruptly, and in the silence Alfred shook his head.

What?

He finishes washing the pan for him and turns off the lights as he leaves the kitchen. The living room is empty and dark already. He goes down the little hall to their room.

He enters softly and sees Kiku already in bed, dusty blue duvet up to his chin.

"Hey, babe, you sure you're okay?"

"Alfred-san, I'm sorry but I really have to sleep. Its past twelve and we have work tomorrow."

Alfred looks at the nightstand alarm clock and sure enough it reads 12:46.

Was it really that late? It seemed a few minutes ago it had been morning.

"Sure, yeah, okay."

He quickly sheds his sweater and below he has a white cotton shirt. He gets into the bed and turns on his side. Kiku was facing away from him, so he put an arm around his waist to pull him closer. He was always unusually warm so he tended to hold Kiku in his arms through the night to share his warmth like a personal heater. But now, Kiku pulled away.

"Really, Alfred we must sleep."

Alfred drew back and looked at the back of his head. He knew from experience not to push a subject with Kiku, it only brought more confusion. So, he nodded.

"Alright."

He goes to his side of the bed and turns to face the other way.

This felt wrong.

"Good night, Kiku."

No response.

He sighs and falls quiet.

The last thing he hears before falling into a deep sleep was a short muffled sniffle.


	4. A Notice

First of all, my sincerest apologies to anyone who has waited around for my lazy arse to upload.  
I've taken a bit of an unannounced hiatus, haven't I? Due to unforeseeable and personal issues that came about, I have had to step away from my writing for a while. And for that, I deeply apologise.  
That being said, I'd like to get back into the swing of writing, to put it shortly. I know I enjoyed writing as a pastime before and I refuse to have that carefree joy be taken away from me. So I'm taking a mini stand and I'm going to start writing again.  
I digress, however.  
This is meant to serve as a sort of greeting? A, 'Welcome back', if you will. I don't know how often I will update or how long apart the space between updates will be, just a warning. Therefore, in order to go forth in my writing process, I have to ask you, my dear and very humble reader, a very important question. I'm, at present, debating whether it is better to scrub* all my current works clean and start them from scratch, with revisions and character improvements and whatnot, or continue as they are. It would seem reasonably to pick up where I left off, but as you might now, it's been almost a year since my last update.  
(Eleven days short, actually! FLITS was updated on the 23 of April. Wild.)  
That is a long time between updates. I've honestly lost the feel I had for the characters. My mind-set now is a lot different than it was at the time I was writing that particular fic. If I do start over then the process of rewriting and tweaking will take a while, and the story might change from what it was before. The tone and feel.  
Even the endings I had in mind.  
I realized I couldn't take this important decision without input from the most important people; the ones reading these stories.  
That is my current dilemma and I'm asking for your opinion: Scrub and start new, or go on as it is?  
Thank you so much for reading through all this and sorry for any mini heart attacks I may cause by posting this ^ ^;;  
Sorry, not an update.  
Yet at least :)  
I eagerly await to hear back from you all, new and old fans alike!

*The scrub would also mean leaving my account on here and moving permanently to ao3. 


End file.
